


Facing the Wolf

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan (Non-Canon AUs) [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Arlathan, Bonus Chapter, Bonus NSFW, Bonus Smut, F/M, Time Travel, the dread wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Prompt Fic. A mishap with an ancient artifact sends Isii through a portal, dropping her into a time and place that is completely foreign to her. At first she is happy to see that Solas is there with her... until she realizes it isn't Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The portal spat her out, closing behind her with a crackling snap. Isii barely caught herself as she fell, her body slamming into the floor. Her hands and knees ached from the impact, but at least she saved her face from the blow. She froze for a moment, getting her bearings as she slowly lifted her head, taking in her surroundings. The room was large – unlike any she had seen before. Moonlight danced on every surface, prisms of color on every curved line of the iridescent glass walls that enclosed the room. Beyond them she could see a great city, stretching out into the distance. She stood, walking closer to the wall to peer out, her lips parted in awe. It was completely foreign. Beyond them she could see the expanse of a dense forest, trees stretching out for miles in each direction. She could see lights in the distance - golden spires and arched domes peeking out from behind a massive wall. A city - a glimmering gem chasing back the inky shadows of night.

She rose, stepping closer to the wall in order to peer out, her lips parting in awe. It was completely foreign. The silhouette of the architecture was unlike anything she’d seen, buildings seemingly lifting up towards the heavens, barely tethered to the ground below. Her eyes worked over the unfamiliar shape of the city quickly, trying to take it in, to understand where the portal had sent her. This couldn’t be anywhere in the Southlands. The construction was distinctly unlike any she had seen in Ferelden, Orlais, or the Free Marches. She spotted faint hints of light shifting through the surrounding forest, vaporous glowing forms obscured by the trees and yet unmistakable for what they were - spirits, drifting freely through the waking world.

_Where am I?_

She startled when she heard the familiar voice behind her but quickly settled as she turned, eased by the realization that Solas was there. At least she wasn’t alone. Perhaps he had been thrown into the portal with her?

That notion quickly left when her eyes found him.

It _was_ Solas – but it wasn’t. Not as she had known him. The face was the same, though the scar upon his brow was missing. He had hair – lots of hair – a long and matted mane of dark strands falling from the crest of his skull, tied back loosely with black cording. The sides were shaved short, leaving nothing but a hint of dark stubble. His clothing was far from the simple rustic garb that Dorian mocked him for. A long and elegant robe hung loosely at his shoulders, unfastened and open as if caught dressing quickly. He wore little else, bare-chested with a pair of slim breeches.

He was approaching her, his irritation increasing the longer she stayed silent. He repeated himself and she realized the words were unfamiliar. Something in Elvish. She knew that much.

“Solas?”

He peered at her, halfway between a scowl and confusion before speaking again. He was demanding something of her, she could tell by his tone, but she had no concept of what it could be.

“Solas, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He paused his approach, tilting his head slightly as his eyes narrowed. He looked her over slowly, evaluating her before stepping closer. His gait was familiar – the way his hips shifted, the way he placed his feet, subtly crossing each step before the other. But the way he moved had a languid quality to it now and the way he looked at her made her suddenly feel apprehensive. Exposed. Something she’d never felt around Solas before.

He spoke again and she caught a few of the words. _Dirtha._ To speak. To know? Hard to tell without better context. _Elvhen. Isala na…_ something. He was in need of something from her?

She took a nervous step back, stopped by the press of the glass wall behind her as he closed the distance. He grinned, a smirk, a slanted un-Solas-like smile, lifting her chin with his fingertips. “Solas?” He moved closer, close enough for his lips to barely brush against hers as he spoke again, murmured words she couldn’t make out. She felt a sudden tension in her throat, the sensation of something sliding up into her mouth, a tingling heat as it passed over her tongue and between his lips. He pulled back, a curious look on his face as if pondering an unfamiliar flavor before his eyes met hers.

“Aren’t you a curious little thing?” He said, grinning, his fingers still propping up her chin.

The familiarity of his words brought some small relief, though little else about him did. “Solas, where are we? Where are the others?”

He peered at her again, amused curiosity in his eyes. “Is that the only word you know, little rabbit? You do not speak the tongue of the People, yet you repeatedly proclaim _Pride? Stand tall?_ An odd phrase for a slave to pick up.”

 _A slave?_ She frowned, opening her lips to speak. “Tell me, then.” He continued, his fingers turning her head, his eyes looking over the curves of her face. “Why do I wake to find one of June’s pets in my home?” His eyes slid lower, the fingers of his other hand peeling back the edge of her jacket that obscured his view of her body. “You do seem in rather good condition to be one of his. Did he send you to me as a peace offering?” When his eyes met hers again there was something wicked there, something mischievous in his smirk. “I did not think our spat warranted such a thing. Though if this is his idea of a gesture of goodwill, he knows me even less than I suspected.” He curled his fingers around her wrist, inspecting the back of her hand. “Clearly you are not one of his craftsmen. Your skills are of a more intimate nature, I take it?”

He looked surprised when she ripped her hand away, jerking her jaw from his grip. Her stomach felt sick, twisting low over his words. He thought she was some sort of slave? _A slave belonging to June, the God of Craft? The one whose vallaslin I wear?_ He spoke of him as if he knew him, as if he would owe Solas a favor. It made no sense.

He arched his eyebrow, his smile softening. “There is no need to worry, pet. I do not take my pleasures from slaves.”

“I’m not a slave.” She said quickly.

He stilled, looking at her as if she were mad. “Is that so?” He brushed a finger along her cheek, tracing the line of her vallaslin before she flinched away from his touch. “Then you bear his brand for what purpose? Mere decoration?”

She stammered, her words uncertain as she spoke them. “The… the vallaslin honor the gods of my people.”

He roll of his laughter made her stomach sink. “Truly? Do you consider your subjugation an honor?” He gripped her wrist again, leaning in closer until she was pressed flush against the glass. “Is it an honor to have someone use your body how they see fit?” He asked, his tone hardening. “To decide by purely economic reasoning whether or not it is worth even feeding you? Tell me, is it blind faith or pure ignorance that allows you to believe that when your master forces himself on you?”

“No one will ever force themselves on me.” She snarled. She wrenched her wrist from his grip once more, slamming her hand into his chest, pushing him back. The mark flared and snapped as she made contact with his skin, startling them both with its intensity. He stared at her, wide-eyed, before grabbing her arm, twisting her palm up into view. “Solas, let go of me.” She snapped, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. He was looking intently at the mark.

His eyes slowly drifted back to her face, his expression unreadable. He stepped back, his hold on her loosening as he gently lead her away from the wall. “My apologies.” He murmured, though it felt more like a placation. “I meant no insult.” She recognized his look as his eyes moved over her. She had seen it before as Solas pondered over something unfamiliar, a puzzle he needed to solve, as if the pieces were gradually coming together. He released her arm, stepping around her now, slowly circling.

“You are quite the mystery, aren’t you?” She watched him until he passed behind her, tense under his gaze. “Your pretty little tongue doesn’t know the language of the People. You clearly don’t know your place as a slave. And you speak to me as if you know me, when we have never met.” His circling paused and she felt the brush of his body behind hers, close enough to feel his breath on her neck. “A curious prospect, certainly.” His hand slipped down against her hip, pressing her gently against him so his mouth could rest close to her ear. He breathed his words out slowly, his voice low and rumbling. “Tell me, little rabbit. Who do you know me as?”

This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. He did not know who she was, so she had either slipped into the past or fallen into some other world where they had never met. So much of his behavior was foreign to her and yet she could see the man she knew there – in gestures, in his tone, in the movement of his body. “You’re Solas.” She said, her confidence in that statement rapidly slipping away from her. “A mage. A somniari. You’re a companion of mine.”

“What sort of companion?” He murmured.

She hesitated. He was her lover, but she wasn’t about to tell this version of him that. “You fight at my side.” She said. “Advise me when I ask it of you. You follow me as your leader.”

She heard his soft laughter as he stepped in front of her again. “I take orders from you?”

She nodded. “When I give them. More often than not you do as I ask without me having to command you.”

“And the scar upon your hand,” he said smoothly, “I gave that to you, I presume?”

She frowned, shaking her head. “No. Of course not.”

He let out a short hum, a flash of curious recognition in his face. “Tell me, pet. How did you come to find yourself here?”

“We were exploring an ancient ruin, north of Lake Calenhad. A Temple dedicated to Fen’harel.”

She noticed the subtle pull of the corner of his lip – a private look Solas often got when quietly amused by something he would not comment on. “Is that so?”

“There was an altar there that housed an artifact. An old weapon of some sort. You… he… Solas told me not to touch it and I didn’t listen. Then the portal opened and…” His stillness unnerved her, along with the grin that he wore.

He wasn’t Solas. He wore his face, spoke with his voice, but he wasn’t him.

She had no idea who this man was.

***

Fen’harel watched her intently, unable to hide his amusement.

_Wolf, what have you been up to?_

When he felt the sting of his own magic on his skin, he began to piece together that she was connected to him somehow. The rest was easy to figure out. She called him by a different name, seemed completely out of time and place. Whatever world the future held, it had certainly birthed a delightful little creature. Someone he would one day take the pleasure in thoroughly deceiving, by the sound of it. By how timid and nervous she was to look upon him, he supposed this “Solas” he pretended to be must be quite the change in character. What was it, he wondered, that would make him so dedicated to the lie to go to all this trouble?

He hoped he was getting something pleasurable out of it. By the look of the woman who stood before him, he could think of a few ways his efforts could be repaid.

He pulled closer to her, tantalizingly close, enjoying the way she nervously leaned back, even as her breaths hitched. “Would you like to know a secret, little rabbit?” he asked, bringing his lips close to her ear. “It is an awfully big secret.”

He could hear her hesitation, feel her wary look. “What is it?”

“This is just a dream.” He whispered slowly before pulling away, smiling at her through a heavy-lidded stare. He could see her confusion followed swiftly by consideration. “Think on it, pet.” He said smoothly. “What part of this makes sense? That you are in a place you do not recognize with a Solas who is not Solas?” He shrugged. “Which is more believable? That the artifact you touched sent you to a different time and place, or that it left you trapped in a dream, unable to wake yourself?”

Her gaze shifted downward, her brow furrowing. He could see doubt start to creep into her features.

_Good._

He took her hand gently, bringing it to his lips. “Luckily for you, I am here to help.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Why else would I wear the face of a trusted friend?” He said, flashing her a bright smile. “I know what needs to be done to wake you up, little rabbit. Do as I say and all of this will fade away like just another bad dream.”

He could see she was starting to believe him. As silly as the lie was, it was easier to mask confusion within the realm of a dream than accept a reality in which very little made sense. “Do we have a deal?” He purred.

She looked uncertain but nodded. “What do I need to do?”

“Simply follow me.” He whispered, her hand still in his as he stepped slowly backward, leading her across the study. “We should move quickly. I’m certain your Solas is very worried about you, pet. I would hate to keep him waiting.”

Fen’harel would take her to his temple, once he’d gotten her to describe it’s whereabouts in terms he could understand, and undo the process she had begun. It would be simple enough. He understood what had gone wrong to send her to him. He would tuck her back into her own time, send her back to his own waiting arms.  

He wouldn’t reveal his identity to her – not when he had gone to all this trouble to deceive her. Not when he didn’t know what the trick was.

He wouldn’t want to spoil his own fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor detail edits made on 4/25.


	2. Chapter 2

He did not bother with dressing further. The journey would not take long and he knew that delaying would increase the chances that his delicate little ruse would be disrupted. She could hear the wrong thing, see something she should not, and the notion that he was the Dread Wolf would be planted in her thoughts. While she would hopefully return to her time under the impression that none of this was real, he was certain his future self would not want her to even harbor the suggestion of his identity within her subconscious.

It would ruin the inevitable surprise.

His estate lay silent – understandable, given that most would still be asleep. In the daytime, these halls would have been bustling with movement, filled with those who served and those who worshiped, with priests and Exalted and supplicants – all vying for his favor, each begging for his intervention into their small and petty lives. They passed a few servants who, true to form, kept their heads down and their mouths shut. They would pose no threat to his secret.

He glanced over to the elf, her eyes wide as she scanned the crystalline walls, the branches of trees that formed the framework for his estate, the high ceilings, the murals and paintings, drinking in the space around her with a subtle look of awe. He grinned, tightening his grip on her hand, drawing her attention to him. “Impressed with my home, I take it?”

“It’s unlike anything I have ever seen.” She said as he pulled her into the main hall. The room was by far the largest in his estate, built to house the many guests he would host at any given time. The ceiling above more closely resembled a forest canopy than an enclosed space, the full moon visible between the arcing boughs, shining down through the glass encasement. At the far end sat his throne – a large and imposing piece of carved white stone veined with grey, framed on either side by two great oaks. He noted how her eyes lingered on it curiously as he brought her closer to his mirror. “Solas told me about such places once.” She said softly. “Rounded spires of crystal among the trees…” Her gaze lowered, her mind working to piece together a thought.

“Then clearly you desired to see it for yourself.” He said, catching her chin with his fingers, guiding her to look up at him. “You have imagined it so vividly.”

There was still a lingering skepticism in her look. “So this dream,” she began, “it’s feeding off of my memories? My thoughts?”

“You could say that, little rabbit.” The Dread Wolf replied. _Doesn’t make it true, but you can certainly say it._

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He arched his brow, the corner of his lip twisting as he tilted his head, leaning in closer. “What should I call you, pet? You have yet to tell me your name.”

“Shouldn’t you know it already,” she asked, “if this is all truly inside my head?”

_Clever._

“I am only a part of the vision.” He said quickly. “I can no more see into your thoughts than you can perceive mine.”

She looked up at him silently, evaluating him. It was clear she was uncertain how believable his claim was. He had to admit, it was a bit refreshing to see skepticism, even if it posed an inconvenience for him now. He was used to the lesser people accepting his words without hesitation. To find one who did not was mildly intriguing.

“Isii,” she said after a moment. “My name is Isii.”

His fingers stayed pressed beneath her chin, his thumb stroking along her jaw as he brought his face within inches of her own. “I shall remember that,” he murmured low. He found it interesting how she responded to him drawing close to her. It made her nervous, yet she did not pull away. _Is it stubborn pride that drives her or something else?_

He lifted his hand, his eyes still on her as he brushed his fingers through the air, activating the mirror. She turned her head as it hummed into life, pulling herself from his touch as she gazed in disbelief. “Wait…” She stepped over to the glass, running her hand against the thrumming vibration of power that emanated from it. “You have an Eluvian,” she said, a hint of amazement in her voice.

He peered at the back of her head curiously, not quite understanding what was so remarkable about it. While not everyone possessed the magical prowess to activate the Eluvians, they were as common as any other part of Elvhenan. There was one in every temple, in every market square, in the homes of gods and nobility. Still, many things may have changed between his own time and hers. “Come,” he said, taking her hand once more, leading her through the glass.

He moved through the midrealm in long strides, retracing the familiar path to the mirror that would guide him to his Southern Temple. She kept pace as best she could while still gawking at her surroundings. Her wonderment would have almost seemed childlike, except it projected a sense of mature evaluation, of study and observation rather than dumbfounded awe. He found his gaze lingering on her periodically as they walked, studying the long lines of her body, noting how the curve of her breasts was mostly obscured by her armor. It was territory he would not mind exploring in more detail and he shamelessly allowed his thoughts to linger there until he heard voices up ahead.

His eyes shifted down the path, spotting two familiar figures walking toward them. He cursed lightly under his breath.

_June and the lesser of his two obnoxious sisters._

Normally all he would expect from them in passing was a steely glare, if any recognition whatsoever. However, being spotted with an elf bearing June’s vallaslin would raise questions. Questions that, in all honesty, he didn’t know quite how to answer. No matter what words passed between them, it would potentially reveal more to Isii than he intended to allow.

She staggered as he slipped his arm around her waist, quickly pulling her behind one of the mirrors. He pressed her back to it, pinning her with his body as she let out a small noise in objection. He shushed her, brushing his thumb over her lip, pleased to feel her shudder slightly against him. It brought his mind to distraction for the briefest of moments, wondering how else he could make her quiver, but now was not the time for that. As much fun as he would like to have with her, he turned his attention away, gazing out into the middle distance, listening carefully.

“Our sister’s mind is near breaking and you will do nothing for her?” June snapped as they drew near.

“You assume I am even capable of such a thing?” Sylaise asked, her voice straining. “The Void is a dangerous place. None of us truly know what she may be encountering there – save for possibly Fen’harel and he would be the last person to offer his assistance. She is determined to hunt the Others and they consider him like kin. She will keep returning to the Abyss until…” Her words drifted, her tone concerned. “I can no more convince her to stop than you. I fear her descent will only worsen over time. I can heal many things, but I can do nothing for her mind.”

“You’ve seen how she is. Heard her ranting, her threats.” June said, his tone darkening. “It won’t be long before she turns her weapons on us.”

His sister was quiet in her response. “I know.”

“Then what do we do?”

Fen’harel listened to the stillness that settled between them, his eyes narrowing. Clearly Andruil’s obsession with the Void was worsening. A dangerous thing, yes, but it did not strike him with fear. Instead, he saw a potential opportunity. Were he not trying to conceal the woman he had pressed against him, he would be using this moment to his advantage. He could make use of this later, perhaps— once he had delivered Isii to her proper time. He took some small delight in the sound of her quickened breaths, her body tense against his, her palms flattened against his chest. Teasingly, he shifted, pressing his leg between her thighs, eliciting a small gasp. Her eyes widened, her lips parting to speak but he shushed her again, grinning as he arched his brow.

“Gather your resolve, sister.” June said, breaking the silence. “You know we have to go to Mythal. This cannot be ignored.”

“I don’t want to think of what she will do to her…”

“Then think of what our sister may do to us.” June’s tone was stern. “We know better than anyone what she is capable of. I will not see her use the tools of my labor against us.” Fen’harel could hear the hum of an Eluvian opening. “Come. You know what must be done.”

The Dread Wolf turned his attention once more to the elf, her eyes anxiously scanning his face. He could hear the others pass through one of the mirrors, knowing that he was alone with her once more, yet he did not pull his body away. He slid his hands to her waist, his voice low as he spoke. “Tell me, Isii.” He began, his face inches from her own. “Has your Solas ever taken you?”

He enjoyed the look of shock in her features, her breath catching. “What?”

“Come now,” he purred, bringing his lips to her ear, subtly shifting the press of his thigh until the smallest of sounds escaped her. “I’m certain my meaning does not elude you.”

She began to answer, but hesitated. “No. He hasn’t.”

Fen’harel hummed softly, inhaling her scent as his face ghosted over the skin of her throat. “Then he is a damn fool,” he murmured. Admittedly, he was disappointed to hear that. He had been looking forward to a time where he could indulge in this little creature. Perhaps the illusion his future-self pursued was somehow dependent upon maintaining some level of restraint. On the other hand, seducing his commander did sound like something he would do. The notion that he would one day take orders from her amused him. Clearly she had no idea who she was dealing with.

“Come,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from her. “It is not much further.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The conversation between June and Sylaise is a reference to[this codex.](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Elven_God_Andruil) Also, the concept of "Exalted" mentioned briefly in the beginning is something I will discuss in more detail in both [Isala Arla](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3178193/chapters/6904148) as well as my DA BB fic. It's a headcanon._


	3. Chapter 3

He had to be cautious when entering his Temple. A priest looked up, startled at the late night visit, his eyes growing wide when he saw who it was. Fen’harel saw the man’s lips part to speak and stole his voice away with a wave of his hand, silencing him before he could let his identity slip. He turned to Isii, bringing her hand to his lips, forcing a pleasant smile. “Pardon me a moment. There are preparations to be made.” She looked at him curiously but nodded. He stalked over to the man who was cowering in confusion, his mouth moving to try and form words. Careful not to be within Isii’s line of sight, Fen’harel gripped the man firmly by the throat, restoring his voice. “Have the sanctuary cleared.” He hissed in a whisper. “Immediately.”

“But, we are in preparation for the liturgy-” His words fell away as Fen’harel’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, my Lord, forgive me.” He spat out quickly, his eyes darting downward. “I will do as you ask.”

“No one is to re-enter until I have left. And I will strike down anyone who calls me by name. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, my god.”

Fen’harel released the man, the priest scurrying past the entrance into the main body of the Temple. When the Dread Wolf turned back to Isii, she was gazing up at one of the murals, her fingers slowly tracing the silver tiles. “It’s strange to see it this way,” she said, feeling his eyes on her as he approached. “The Temple, I mean. I was just here and it was a ruin. Crumbling and old and… I didn’t expect it to be so bright. So colorful.”

“Would you expect any less from the Temple of a god?”

“For the Dread Wolf, perhaps.” She said absentmindedly, taking slow strides around the antechamber. She took special notice of the walls – inlaid with silver and gems, tiled with murals of him as the Wolf he so adored taking the form of. He peered at her curiously.

“Meaning?”

She shrugged. “This place looks like a palace but I would expect something… I don’t know. Darker? Imposing. Not a place to honor, but to placate for fear of retribution. I’m just surprised the dream would show me this.”

He stepped in behind her, his hands sliding onto her hips. She didn’t flinch this time when he touched her. Perhaps she was growing used to it. “Do you really find the Dread Wolf so fearsome?” He purred in her ear.

“Don’t you?” She asked, still studying the image in front of her. He held back his laughter, parting his lips to speak when the doors behind them opened once more. He turned away from her as the nervous priest stepped forward, his head bowed, not making eye contact with the god he served.

“I have done as you asked.” He stammered. Fen’harel gave a jerk of his head and the man darted away into a side passage, seemingly relieved.

“Come,” he beckoned, taking her by the arm. He led Isii into the sanctuary, sealing the doors behind them and walking briskly to the altar. The vague _“weapon of some sort”_ she had described earlier lay on the carved stone surface; a clawed katar, a favored relic of his, though mostly used as a ceremonial piece. While deadly in its own right, its primary function was for manipulating barrier magics. He had never considered using it to tear a hole through time itself, though the concept was clearly possible, given her presence. However accidental her passage had been, it would be fairly simple to reverse the process. Establish a connection to her proper place by channeling magic through her, use the blades to cut through the barrier that separated the timelines. An interesting experiment, to say the least. One that would require quite a lot of power.

He turned her, pressing forward until the back of her legs hit the altar. She eyed him curiously as he took her hand, gliding his thumb over the mark, teasing the glowing energy from her flesh. He flattened her palm against his chest, shuddering slightly as the magic within her cracked across his skin, rough and unwilling until it recognized the feel of its true owner. There was a connection there- a buzzing that ran through him. He could tell she felt it too. Her brow furrowed, her eyes shifting between him and her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Remember our arrangement?” He murmured quietly. “You do as I say and I will wake you up. You do want to go home, don’t you?” She hesitated, eyeing him, but nodded nonetheless. He slid his hand along the side of her throat, pushing her chin up with his thumb. “Then don’t part your hand from my skin.” He angled her face towards his own, bringing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was not entirely necessary. All the spell required was sustained physical contact, a means for his magic to channel through her, but he did so prefer it this way. His fingers slid to the back of her head, her nails pressing into his chest as he flicked his tongue between her lips, demanding entry. She was more willing than he had anticipated, kissing him back in earnest once her initial surprise melted away. He breathed in deeply, pulling the power of the mark into himself, letting it build and twist and weave in with his own before pushing it back into her. The initial swell made her gasp, breaking away from his mouth before he caught her lips again, pouring energy into her body like a sudden flood until it radiated from her touch, relishing how she whimpered and writhed against the sensation. He slid his hand down the curve of her backside, wantonly palming her flesh as she bit down on his lip, stifling a moan.

She was a delight. “Solas” was clearly an idiot for not taking advantage. He could not deny that he was tempted to press further, to take pleasure in her before sending her back. But this was little more than a kiss and one that had its own purpose to serve.

He brought his free hand behind her, slipping his fingers along the grip of the katar, dragging the clawed blades against the smooth stone altar. He could practically taste his magic on her tongue, feel it tingling against her lips and he pulled from her again, imbuing the relic with their combined power. She was shivering now, panting as he broke the kiss, staring at him wide-eyed as the quivering hum of energy left her. He tightened his grip on the weapon, smirking as he lowered her hand from his chest. He drew himself away from her, guiding her by the hand to stand free of the altar before releasing his hold, stepping to the side. He lifted the blades, gesturing with a turn of his wrist as a slow tear began to form, crackling green light creating a scar in midair before her. She watched anxiously, her eyes darting between him and the newly-forming rift until is burst open with a sudden wave.

Though he could not see through, he could certainly hear who was on the other side – the familiar voice, calling out in startled and sudden relief. “Vhenan!” Fen’harel mulled over the word, watching as her face warmed into an affectionate smile upon seeing his older self.

_Interesting._

“Vhenan, hmm?” The Dread Wolf said, slowly stepping around to stand behind Isii, seeing his counterpart’s face suddenly grow tense. Fen’harel laced his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, tilting it as he brought his lips to her ear. She stiffened, startled, but the words he whispered soon pulled that tension from her as her eyes closed, her body growing limp as she sank into sleep. He held her up, his arm slipping around her middle, pressing her back against his body as he studied the older man. “You’re very good, _Solas_.” He murmured, grinning. “I almost believed that.” He dragged his nose slowly against the side of her exposed throat. “Vhenan.” He moaned mockingly, his eyes drifting closed, lips and teeth brushing against her. He glanced into the portal, down at the man he would one day be; the one whose eyes were now narrow and glowering, whose hands gripped his staff tightly. “See, I don’t think I have it quite right.” Fen’harel said with a smirk. “When I say it, it sounds far more lustful than tender.”

“Give her back to me.” The older man growled. “Now.”

The Wolf laughed, a low and pleasured sound. “What? Do you not trust yourself?”

“I would be a fool to.” He spat. “We both know that. Better than anyone else.”

Fen’harel’s smile deepened, clicking his tongue softly as he shook his head. “Such a lack of faith. I’m disappointed.” His gaze drifted back to Isii, slowly tracing a path down her body. “Such a pretty little thing you’ve found for us, Wolf.” He said, parting the front of her jacket, giving himself a better view. “My compliments to your tastes.” The older man glared at him silently. He couldn’t say he was too surprised. Fen’harel was never fond of people touching his things – even if it was himself from another time. “I am curious why you haven’t let yourself sink into this one. I can assure you, she is more than willing…”

“Shut up.”

“Come now,” Fen’harel chastised. “You cannot tell me you’ve never thought about it, Old Man. I know for a fact that you have.” He added with a smirk. He took another slow, long look at her before his eyes met his own once more. “You should really take care to hold onto your toys, _Solas_.” With that, he released her, pushing her forward, allowing her body to fall into the portal.

Solas let his staff clatter to the ground as he rushed forward, crouching as he caught her. He lowered her to the ground, stretched back across his knees as he knelt, his eyes darting back up into the rift. His younger self looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Be seeing you.” He purred, winking. He lifted his hand, gestured with a brush of his fingers through the air and the tear shut with a crackling snap.

Solas turned his full attention to Isii, cupping her cheek in his hand, reassuring himself that she was only sleeping. His mind raced with worry, fearing his identity had been revealed. He didn’t want to lose her, not now. He wasn’t ready to let go. He felt a slow fog entering him, the memory of their past encounter shifting his thoughts. He could remember her now – the strange and beautiful woman who had suddenly appeared in his home. The slave who was not a slave. How amused he had been when he realized she was the target to one of his deceptions. Ages spent thinking that it was nothing more than a game he would one day play, curious about the means and goals, secretly hoping that she was the prize. How he had considered selfishly indulging in her before sending her back to his future self. He had wanted her back then, but it was a different want than Solas felt. As a younger man, it was merely libidinous hedonism. She was beautiful and he so enjoyed the pursuit of pleasure from beautiful things. The thought had not even crossed his mind, in all the years that had passed between these two separate moments, that he meant it when he called her his heart. That she would mean more to him than anyone else who had ever lived.

He could remember the lie about the dream. He mulled it over, trying to think of how to complete the ruse. Bull and Sera had both seen Isii go into the portal, though thankfully they left him alone in order to attempt its reopening. Had they been there, his idiotic younger self would have destroyed any attempt at maintaining the deception. He would have to be careful in how he convinced them of the lie. Thankfully neither held a strong understanding of the Fade or of magic. He felt confident that they would not question him if he told them she’d been pulled into a construct in the Fade, her body placed in a form of stasis beyond the rift as her mind struggled to free itself from the vision. The concept was pure nonsense, of course, but it would serve his needs. Sera would likely resist any further explanation and Bull, though no fool, would lack the knowledge necessary to create much doubt.

Isii began to stir, moaning softly as she blinked. “Are you alright, vhenan?” Her eyes widened with recognition and she quickly sat up, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. He stiffened in surprise.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.” Her words muffled into his tunic as she spoke, her grip tightening. “Gods, I thought I was trapped there. I didn’t even realize I was dreaming. It felt so real.” Solas hesitated, but returned the embrace, stroking one hand along the back of her head. “There was something there. A spirit, I think.” She pulled back, looking up at him. “He tried to look like you, sound like you but…” She paused, breaking her words with laughter. “Honestly it did a terrible impersonation.”

He forced a smile. “Is that so?”

She nodded, pressing herself into the hug once more. “Gods, you don’t know what a relief it is to have the real you back.”

He tightened his hold on her even as he felt the sharp sting of guilt sink under his skin. “It is over now. Think nothing of it.”

“Ar lath ma,” she murmured. He repeated the sentiment, thankful to hear those words again, knowing how close he’d come to losing her forever. In his current state, he did not possess the power to reopen the portal and retrieve her. It was something that only his past self could have done and there was no part of him that would have expected the cocky youth to be so generous.

He supposed now he had one thing from that time in his life that he would not look back on with regret.


	4. Bonus: Just a Little Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bonus tie-in that I wrote for the [Romance Meme](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com/post/110882071783/signs-of-affection-masterpost) on tumblr. The prompt was **A Fantasy + A Touch.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW.** I don't intend to change the rating on the fic as a whole, as this is merely a piece of supplementary material, but consider this your warning.

Night was drawing to a close by the time he stripped off his clothing, returning to his bed. He’d spent much of the evening acting as an escort rather than resting – though the hours he chose to sleep mattered little. Those who would make their demands of him would wait for him to rise when he saw fit. None would be brazen enough to disrupt the sleep of a god, save for perhaps one of his lovers – yet even they were too fearful of losing his favor to take such an action.

He closed his eyes. Sleep did not come to him right away and he lay there awhile in thought. He could still feel the tingling sensation against his skin where the scar on her hand had touched him, his own magic trapped inside such a pretty little vessel. He knew that thoughts of Isii would leave him soon enough. She was a curiosity that would linger in his mind, but he was confident that his interest in her would be fleeting. It so often was with the beautiful trinkets he enjoyed and then cast aside. No one truly held his attention for very long and he lacked any singular focus for the few who did. The beautiful and mysterious freewoman would be a passing fancy, as all others before her.

Still, it did no harm to let his thoughts linger there.

He thought of the thrumming energy that passed between their bodies at her touch, the intoxicating quality of feeling his magic through her skin. He replayed her kiss in his mind – how she had whimpered against his mouth, how her body had writhed, how she bit into his lip when she moaned. He had expected her to resist him, to fearfully melt against the seduction of his kiss, but she had pleasantly surprised him. Not only accepting, but urging, enticing, encouraging. Forceful in her own right.

He wanted her in that moment. He wanted to see how far that willingness extended. He’d resisted that impulse but thought of it now, imagining how the evening could have played out differently. Would he have teased her with light caresses, easing her body to arousal, gradually revealing his intent? Or would he simply slide his hand between her legs, pressing magic past the fabric of her breeches, tendrils of tingling heat surging into her core? He would so delight in the way that would make her gasp, stealing a surprised moan from her as her eyes widened in shock. Maybe her head would fall back, exposing her throat. He would take it, taste it, run his tongue over her flesh as he shifted fingers teasingly against her, asking her if this is how she wanted her _Solas_  to touch her. He could imagine the rolling grind of her hips, as eager in this as she had been for his kiss, eager still when he would slide his fingers past loosened lacings, teasing her clit, testing her folds to see if she was ready for him. He would whisper to her in Elven as he pressed past her entrance, relishing the fact that she could not understand the filth that passed his lips.

There was a perverse quality to this fantasy- to think of taking her there in his Temple, against his own altar, but what better form of worship could there be than making her cry out to him as she came? He did not doubt that he would make her sing for him. In this fantasy, she was quite vocal.

He could not decide precisely how he wished to take her, his mind running over variations in position and quality. The thought suddenly occurred to him that she might be more assertive than his past lovers. In his experience, most of the women he’d taken to his bed awaited his demands, eager to please him but only on his own terms, perhaps fearing that they would lose their position of privilege if they did not give him what he wanted. But Isii didn’t know any better. She would not know that she was bedding a god. To her, this was her own dream. Her own fantasy to live out. He’d felt the way she bit him. There was a ferociousness hidden away in that delectable little body. Perhaps she would press him down against the cool stone of his altar, insisting she take him from above. Not a thought Fen’harel often indulged in, yet in this instance it held a special allure. He could imagine getting the full view of her body as she rode him, crying out a name that would one day be his. He could imagine her voice, the way she would scream as he flooded her body with power, tongues of energy flicking at her inside and out, stimulating all senses at once, wordless keening and moans and then crying out  _vhenan_.

Fen’harel paused at that thought, opening his eyes. She would have called him vhenan. It was what Solas had said upon seeing her. Presumably, she considered him in the same way. For his future-self, he was certain it was merely a trick, but for her, the word would have carried weight. He closed his eyes and imagined how it would sound on her tongue.  _Vhenan_  in a whisper, in a gasp, in an orgasmic shout, imagined her saying it as her body lifted him to his peak and dropped him down to crash into the sudden wave of pleasure and relief.

The Dread Wolf let out a sigh, rolling onto his side, stretching out along his bed. Part of him regretted not indulging in her, but it was no great loss. She was a passing oddity and nothing more. His desires would move on, as would his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before I wrote Chapter 8 of [Isala Arla](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3178193/chapters/6904148). You may note some similarities in the Dread Wolf's tastes. This was not unintentional.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wolf's Den](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5565829) by [Evangeline_Daughter_of_Dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evangeline_Daughter_of_Dragons/pseuds/Evangeline_Daughter_of_Dragons)




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